


cinnamon and sugar, sprinkles and smoke

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Adorable Jester Lavorre, But I mean she's always adorable so, Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, Caleb Widogast Has Self-Esteem Issues, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Caleb Widogast is a Mess, Caleb's POV is just sadness and what do I do I love her ahhh, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Flustered Caleb Widogast, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Obligatory Jester draws Caleb fic, POV Jester Lavorre, Pining Caleb Widogast, Pining Jester Lavorre, Romance, Self-Loathing Caleb Widogast, There's probably too much blushing in this, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a lover letter to Caleb Widogast, and she is not having any of that ty, but also as someone with pale skin and that tendency, but like the bare minimum of angst, but not very much bc this is jester's pov, honestly this is, i can do what i want, i love Caleb can u tell, mr Liam O’Brien u own my whole heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: Jester has some drawing frustrations.Caleb is unaware that he is the source of them.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 28
Kudos: 184





	cinnamon and sugar, sprinkles and smoke

Jester leaned forward, nibbling on her lower lip as she intently studied the object of her attention. Her tail twitched around her legs, swaying from side to side as she leaned closer and closer, chin propped up on her hands. 

The object of her attention was Caleb, bent intently over his book, brows furrowed and scrunched together. His red hair was pulled back, half up and half down, one particularly stubborn strand falling over his forehead. Her fingers itched to reach out and pull the wayward lock back into place over his delicate ears. 

And that’s how Jester knew she was in trouble. 

One didn't exactly wax poetic about _ears_ unless they were really truly in love. Or they had a fetish, but she didn’t, at least, as far as she knew, so. And it wasn’t just the ears of Caleb that she liked. It was _everything,_ really. 

She liked his narrow crooked nose and his long lithe fingers and his thin pink lips and the smattering of freckles across his pale cheeks. She wanted to trace the constellations on them, to paint little flowers on his skin, she wanted to rub the rough calluses on his palms and trace his knobby knuckles and nimble fingers. He moved after a moment, startling her out of her fantasies, his hand going to scrub his chin which was a dark auburn with the soft bristles of a five o’clock shadow. 

She huffed, turning her attention back to the papers scattered before her on the table. She’d neglected to use her sketchbook for this one (it was in her bag and was simply too far for her to get it). Besides, it was probably better that she didn’t fill up her pages with countless half finished sketches, all of which had utterly failed to please her. 

She couldn’t seem to capture what she wanted in them. She couldn’t pin Caleb down on paper and it gnawed at her insides insistently. 

Jester had drawn many funny doodles and mocking comics, of course, but her more serious portraits could never gain any traction. The red just wasn’t orange enough, the soft wisps of hair at the base of his neck didn’t curl right, his nose was too crooked and then not crooked enough- the soft curve of his cheek missed the sharpness of his cheekbone and his eyes didn’t have the right sort of melancholy and warmth. Jester pushed her papers aside in frustration, pulling out a new sheet and starting again. 

Jester glared at her subject, who remained blissfully unaware of her careful scrutiny. She pouted, wishing she could be as oblivious as he was to her suffering. She began her sketch again carefully, deciding to forgo her grey sketching pencil entirely for her new colored ones. 

Her tongue poked out between her teeth as she started with the barest hint of an outline once again. 

She flushed, glancing up at him for reference, a dark flush blossoming across her cheeks, as she tried to trace his delicate lashes and cornflower blue eyes. Jester had to stop and bury her hot face in her hands. She just couldn’t do it. 

After a moment, she took a breath, picking up her pencil again, tail swishing with irritation- akin to Frumpkin after Caleb had tossed him down a well that one time. 

Maybe she should approach this in a different way. 

She bit her lip, watching Caleb look at his books, quill in hand as he quietly mouthed the words that he was reading. His fancy inks and papers were out with his spell book which probably meant he was copying spells. 

Why was she drawing him again? Ah, yes. She wanted to capture his- his beauty yes, but there was something else she wanted. She wanted- she wanted his _soul_ . That sounded creepy and she rephrased it hastily in her mind. She wanted to put his soul down on paper. She wanted anyone who saw her picture to go “oh, yes _that_ is Caleb” or, if they had the misfortune of not being acquainted with their stinky special wizard, they would think “wow this person is ordinary and regular but the artist has somehow made him seem super duper beautiful”.

Yes, that was what she wanted. She wanted others to see what she saw, she wanted _Caleb_ to see what she saw- what he was to them. To her.

Jester nodded, putting her pencil against the paper again with more confidence and purpose. She wanted him to see through her eyes. 

She didn’t know how long she sat, bent over the table and her papers, consumed by her subject, paints and pencils scattered across her workspace. 

It was long enough for her to get a crick in her neck and for her fingers to ache afterwards, though. Jester straightened, stretching, neck cracking. 

Her movement caught the attention of Caleb, who seemed to be packing up his books carefully. His coat not yet retrieved from the back of the chair, leaving the line of his back and the curve of his shoulders exposed to the dancing light of the fire. When had he finished? 

Caleb's blue eyes, blue as a clear sky, blue as the sea under the sun, bluer even than her skin under her fingers, glanced up, settling on her. 

Her breath hitched, her face heated, and those eyes, clear as crystal, lit up at the sight of her and that simply wasn’t _fair_. 

She waved, surely with complete utter awkward-ness, and he tucked that stray lock of hair behind his ear (finally!) as she smiled wide and clumsy, tongue thick and heavy in her mouth, "Hey, Caleb. Whatcha doing?" 

Caleb shuffled forward, books tucked under his arm. She hoped that he couldn’t see her pulse jumping in the crook of her neck, which surely was beating so hard and fast that it was audible from space. 

Caleb seemed to think about it a moment more before putting his books back on the table delicately, next to his coat, a fluid grace in every one of his movements, "I was copying spells, Jester. Surely you’ve seen me do such a boring task before, ja?"

There was amusement in his voice, and oh, Caleb seemed unusually _happy_ today and it was almost blinding in its intensity. How had she ever thought that he was dirty and stinky and uptight in the beginning? He was simply _beautiful_. 

"Well, yeah, I mean, of _course_ I have. But what were you copying just now, Caleb?" 

He searched her face carefully for any signs of trickery or a mocking tone. Just as she knew they would, his lips curved up into a soft genuine smile as he saw only sincerity here, "Well..." 

A swarm of butterflies were doing traitorous flips in her stomach as she watched him beginning to explain the complexities of the arcane magic he was working on, his hair glowing golden orange in the firelight behind him, making him seem almost ethereal and not quite real. 

He moved towards her, and wait- no, he wasn’t supposed to come to _her-_

Jester had never been shy about her sketches but now suddenly for no reason she _was_ . Her whole face was on fire, and she started gathering her papers, but her pencils were in the way- _shit_ and she watched Caleb catch sight of her pictures and she watched his face furrow with confusion and wonder, her stomach dropping, and yes, she _was_ aware she had drawn like fifty thousand pictures of Caleb- “Jester what- what is all this?” 

She waved a hand nonchalantly, laughing nervously, “Oh it’s- you know, it’s practice, just old things you know.” 

Caleb eyed them, “You know, if you need subjects to practice on, Frumpkin would make a better one than me.” He added helpfully, “I think Beauregard would love it if you used her to practice.” 

Jester's eyes narrowed, her fluster suddenly and easily quelled by that sentence, almost as if a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown over her head, “But _Caleb_ ,” and she drew out the length of his name, “I don’t _want_ to draw Beau right now. I want to draw _you_.” 

He seemed exceptionally puzzled by that, and that struck her as so terribly _tragic_ , that he didn’t know what to say. Jester dug through her sheafs of paper, watching confusion and awe settle on his face as she picked them up. They weren’t satisfactory for her, but she wanted him to see- to _see_ , “Here is one of you and Frumpkin, because he is such a good kitty, but see I didn't quite get your nose right and then this one- this one was good except your eyes they’re not right, see?” 

“Ahm-“ she handed him another and another and another, she could see realization growing in his eyes as she piled more pictures on his stack of growing papers. She brightened, finally finding her masterpiece, “This one though, Caleb, this one turned out _perfect_.” 

Jester passed him her newest creation, watching the tips of his ears turn red, seeing the splash of brilliant color she had made of him, the vibrant glow of his happiness and the striking beauty of his soul apparent in every line. It wasn’t a grand piece, just him, quietly bent over his book but it had turned out so well. She was quite proud of it as he spoke very quietly, completely and utterly mystified, “I see you- you, ah, have thought about this quite a lot.”

He was so bright and so wonderful and so _beautiful_ and he didn’t seem to know it. He wasn’t even aware- he didn’t know the effect he had on her, didn’t value the way that even the simplest of his movements turned her into a mess. This feeling of unjustness nearly overwhelmed her and she had to do something about it. She _had_ to act or it would surely kill her. 

Almost without thinking, Jester stood, watching him start as she splayed her hands flat on the table with a loud thump, "You know, Caleb, you are _beautiful_." 

Caleb froze, eyes wide, flicking from the picture to her, and she watched as his cheeks pinked, mouth opening and closing before he managed to stutter out a very weak, "W- what?" 

Jester leaned closer, edging around the table, only emboldened by his fluster, "You, Caleb Widogast, are a very beautiful person. And I think that you make yourself dirty and stinky to hide that from everyone." She pressed a hand against his cheek, a cautious caress, giving him time to run from her touch but he did not flee, her papers- the product of her love- crinkling in his hands, the pink deepening in his cheeks to a deep crimson, "But I know better by now, Caleb. I can see right through your tricks." 

His voice was very hoarse, the red deepening past the collar of his shirt, "Jester...”

She could feel now, his pulse humming beneath the skin of his neck, like a frantic bird fluttering its wings, his eyes dark, "Jester- I am not- you- you are _wrong_ I am not worth anything-“ 

Jester stopped him with a kiss. 

She was pretty sure kisses were supposed to take some doing (she’d often read about tongues battling with each other- which okay, she didn’t see how that appealed to anyone but all the people in her books clearly enjoyed it-) but Caleb seemed to have frozen beneath her. 

And then- _and then-_

He responded, his lips parting, gently guiding her into a more responsive angle, and Jester quite forgot everything the books had ever said. They were all wrong. 

This was _better_. 

She gasped against his lips, a hand going to the nape of his neck, digging into the soft hair she found there, feeling the hitch of his breath in return as they desperately drank each other in. 

Caleb pulled away first, cheeks flushed, Jester felt the loss acutely, lips pliant and parted, still tasting of him. He seemed more than a little gobsmacked as she realized he still held her distinctly more rumpled papers, eyes dilated, the bridge of his nose dusted pink, lips swollen, “Jes- Jester that- I- we-” 

Jester leaned forward, stretching up on her tiptoes to meet him, tail snaking around his calf and pulling him closer, eyes sparking with mischief because he had kissed her back. _He had kissed her back!_ She grinned trailing a finger down the front of his shirt, feeling invincible, her fangs pressing against her lips, watching his face burn red at her proximity, “ _Caleb_... kiss me again?” 

“Jester-“ 

She plucked her stack of papers out of his hands and placed them on the table behind her. She turned around, almost vibrating from joy, feeling her skirts flurry around her legs as he spoke again, stumbling over his words, “Jester, I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have done that- you are- you- I’m not- I’m not the right person-“ 

She huffed, “I’m sorry, Caleb, I wasn’t aware you knew what was right for me.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, hands shaking, “I’m not saying that, Jester. _Schiesse_.” He grabbed at anything, desperate to find something to dissuade her, “What about- what about Fjord-?”

She pouted, taking a step closer and watching him take a step back, “Oh, is _that_ what this is about? Well, I like him but I don’t- I don’t _like_ like him. Not anymore, or I don’t think I ever really did. I think I was more in love with the _idea_ of him- which really isn’t fair to _Fjord_ . I thought- when we kissed underneath the sea but, you know, now that I've actually had one,” she grinned up at Caleb, unable to help the heat darkening her cheeks, “I can tell that was definitely not a real kiss. Or at least, not a _good_ one.” Her toes curled at the recent memory and she really felt like she and Caleb should be kissing again _right now._

Caleb swallowed, throat bobbing, “Jester… there are- he is a far better candidate than me-“ 

Jester tossed her hair, “Really Caleb? Are you saying I have bad taste?” 

“Yes- _no-_ I just-“ 

Jester took hold of the straps of his book holsters, tugging him down to face her so that they were nose to nose as she asked teasingly, “Caleb Widogast, has anyone ever told you that you think too much?”

His eyes softened and Jester suddenly couldn’t breathe- he was so _helplessly_ fond, as if there wasn’t anything else he could do _but_ love her. Jester felt as if she might burst from the seams, scattered into starstuff from the pain of holding this affection inside her. As if this love was too much for her mortal vessel to hold. 

“Yes, Jester, I… I have been told that many times.” 

Jester couldn’t help but drown in this blue blue eyes and she brought a hand up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear, letting her hands linger there, tracing the shell of his ear, “Just this once, Caleb, don’t overthink with that wonderful old brain of yours.” She smiled, unaware of how they edged closer, “You always think about what I want so much. Maybe even a little _too_ much.” 

She could feel his heartbeat underneath her fingers, her amazingly capable yet still fragile wizard so terrifyingly vulnerable in front of her. She cupped his face in her hands, watching his eyes close, long lashes dark against his skin, her thumbs caressing his cheek, “What do _you_ want, Caleb?” 

His hands settled on her wrists, “Oh, Jester.” He opened his eyes, brows furrowed, his beautiful blue eyes full of such _love_ that her heart leapt to her throat. He gently drew her hands down and away, letting go to grip her shoulders, “Jester.” He pulled her close, holding her in his hands as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I’m afraid that you already know what I want, _liebling_.” 

She returned the hug, heart wild in her chest as he continued, “I’d thought I’d made a fool of myself by being so- so painfully obvious.” There was a soft derogatory laugh, “I have- I have thought it unattainable, unworthy- of- of _you_ , Jester.” 

He drew back, “You are so beautiful, Jester. Your kindness and your joy...”

Jester laughed, and she couldn’t help the tears gathering in her eyes, “Caleb, you are so silly.” 

He raised an eyebrow, lips quirking, his eyes impossibly soft, “I am?” 

“Yes, you are." She smiled, breathless, " _You_ are the beautiful one, Caleb. Who would not fall for you?” 

Jester stretched upwards, waiting, but only for a moment as Caleb finally, _finally_ , kissed her again. 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is here: https://ford-ye-fiji.tumblr.com/


End file.
